Chapter 3: Huddle-timeMature

Charles wasn't faring too well. While he was able to hold on his own for a small bit, he couldn't keep up with the general. He had a gash on his chest from Ulritch's talons, which was bleeding profusely, scratches all over his arms, some on his legs, his back, even one on his face. Kara was able, however, to somewhat heal the gash during the battle (the fact that she was healing it and that he really did need to be healed irritated him quite a bit), so he wasn't in any mortal danger, but all the other injuries were slowing him down ever so slowly. He also had some burns scattered around his large body, but they were only first-degree burns, and it didn't seem to slow him down, suggesting that he had been used to fire on his body and his skin was resilient to flame. Nonetheless, he was becoming exhausted and fatigued, while the general still appeared mildly bored.

Kara was currently out of the running, since there were many wounded soldiers that were lucky enough to survive the dracomancer's attacks to be tended to. She was always zipping in and out of the war-zone, frequently having to slither over the bloody and some mangled bodies of the brave men who did not make it through. The nurses had also come back to aid Kara, setting up shelter with whatever furniture and decor that they could gather.

There were less soldiers coming in now. Charles vaguely thought that they had turned chicken and took the excuse to guard the doors for a reason why they couldn't be there, and yet he also thought that the ones that did come to help were fools, seeing that they had no chance to survive. He took no more of that into consideration as he swung his ginormous axe horizontally at Ulritch, who dodged, and through the soldiers unlucky enough to be in the weapon's path. It was getting a bit tiresome to lift now.

As the werewolf breathed ice through his snout, covering the broken marble with slick and smooth ice, the general stopped in his tracks and looked at Charles, a subtly amused look flashing in his eyes. He inquired, "You know, I've heard about you. You hate humans. You destroy the people who come near your home, and you'd much rather be all by yourself. Just curious, but why are you here fighting me?"

Charles took the halberd from his teeth, putting on a look that clearly said finally somebody asks, and replied, "Why? I still like to keep up with what's going on in the world, and I try to see whether or not these god-dammed humans have changed." Charles made a cold and ugly face. "They never do. They still think they're all high and mighty, thinking they can erase those who they think don't belong in this world.

"As to why I'm attacking you, I would have found it embarrassing and pathetic if these people lost another leader in a span of three days."

Ulritch considered this. He thought that the wanted werewolf would just leave if he came here, that it'd be too bothersome to even lift a finger for the humans. That's exactly how he made it sound, too, which made him wonder whether or not he was lying.This thought process, however, was interrupted quickly, as he realized there was some sort of feeling by his legs. He looked down, but then his head was immediately forced up. Kara was wrapped around his entire body, constricting him; she had taken advantage of his thinking time and slid slowly and low across the battlefield, using her snake-like agility to prevent him from escaping when he figured out what was going on.

The dracomancer was actually slightly shocked for a moment, before shaking the feeling off, and went to burn Kara off. He was too late, though. Kara had stretched her mouth wide and bit Ulritch on the neck. He halted. He was starting to feel woozy, his vision became slightly blurred. The poison had entered his bloodstream, and affected him fast. However, this was practically the most damage it was going to cause to him, that much he knew, but as Kara released him, he knew that he was going to have to put in more effort into fighting these people. Though that didn't stop him from clutching his head and muttering, "What a pain in the ass...."

Charles seized this chance. He leaped towards the general, the halberd once again in his mouth, and brought his axe down and let gravity do its work; it was much easier to do it this way, especially due to his exhaustion. However, Ulritch was still able to dodge it, so the werewolf did the next best thing, and attempted to punch him. Sadly enough, Ulritch was putting in good effort, and fast, too, and was able to step swiftly to the side and grab Charles's arm with his sharp talons, pick him up, swing him round and round, then threw him at the makeshift hospital. Kara and some of the other nurses knew they couldn't stop him from destroying their workplace, so they grabbed as many patients as they could and escaped. A couple of wounded men were crushed on Charles's impact, one being killed after his head smashed into the ground, and a couple gained some broken bones.

Picking himself up from the safe-zone-in-shambles, Charles shot an icy glare of fury at Ulritch, who was slightly waving from side to side. On all fours, the werewolf began to move towards his opponent, growling, ignoring the pain that was coming from where Ulritch grabbed him when two things happened. First was an ear-splitting roar that was obviously coming from the dragon, and the doors to the ballroom opened to reveal two figures dashing up to the scene, the younger one spontaneously dropping to the ground while the one in golden armor went to check on him.

Charles decided to look over at the dragon's direction first, since it was the bigger threat. Conrad was on the dragon's face, pointing struggling to stay on and keep himself from being toasted alive. He was right by the eye that Charles decided to keep intact, which was now bleeding profusely, which was an obvious sign that the future elf had shot his rifle at it to blind it completely. Now the dragon was in a blind rage, flapping its wings hard, giving off strong gusts of wind, and was thrashing around in a mix of pain and fury, nearly stomping on even his master with his rage. It was not until that Ulritch started yelling at it in its own tongue was it able to maintain itself and pick a spot to vent out and rest in, along with the general himself, the poison having more of an effect on him than he thought it would.

During the time Ulritch used keeping the dragon in check, Charles glanced over at where the two new entrees stopped. Now Kara, Karkid (of whom was aiding the nurses earlier), Lynn, Conrad, and Aria were by them, the entire group looking confused. Looking back at the enemies to make sure that they weren't of any threat at the moment, he cautiously decided to stride on over to the heroes' group like demon canine he was so that he could take advantage of the situation and rest as well.

When he arrived at the small group, he could see the two newcomers much more clearly now. The collapsed one was Fujitsu, who was muttering random nonsense, looking over-the-top sad, and the other one Click, who even he had heard about in his isolation. He was scratching his head, looking confounded, with a look that said "I know I should understand what's going on, but I don't and it bothers me."

"Should I even ask what's going on?" inquired Charles to nobody in particular, plopping down on the ground.

All turned to him, and Aria replied, "Our friend Fujitsu just collapsed for no reason."

"And for some reason he can only move his head and neck," murmured Lynn unconsciously as she flipped through her notes, looking for what could have made his bodily functions fail like that.

The werewolf took a look at the young swordsman. He was trying to sing a traditional song, no doubt from where he was from, and was also trying to bite his body, looking quite mutinous. Charles looked back at the others. "Does this really surprise you?"

"Not really," responded Click, scratching his chin now.

Fujitsu took a break from his self-attack and looked confused at the two, asking, "Matte, matte. What does that mean?"

Story summary

For the past 15 years, the Dark Lord Xeranad has cast the world of Relanisia into a war cloaked in shadows. No race is safe from his lust, no matter their allegience. The dwarves, orcs, trolls, titans, and drow have all succumbed to his might. The elves have managed to keep his Stygian Army at bay for now, but Xeranad's patience is waning quickly, and it's only a matter of time before the great elven civilization burns to cinders and ash. Knowing that his army has no chance at surviving again

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